


Join Me in the Shadows

by Hot_elf



Series: Dragon Age - series 7 (Megan Cousland / Revon Hawke / Alec Trevelyan) [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dragon Age Big Bang, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:25:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1561355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hot_elf/pseuds/Hot_elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Duncan arrives at Highever, he quickly realizes Megan Cousland is a born troublemaker. As they make their way to Ostagar together, a bond develops between them, but the battle awaits and dark shadows lie ahead.<br/>Written for the 2014 Spring Dragon Age Big Bang</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Warden

**Author's Note:**

> Big hugs and thanks to my trusted beta zevgirl for taking this on. I am so very grateful for your help and support.

**Chapter 1 - The Warden**

The warmth of the early afternoon sun on her stomach was making her sleepy. Up here on the battlements of Highever Keep, it was nice and quiet, and the view of the woods and meadows was simply spectacular. Megan stretched voluptuously, displaying her trim, toned body to best advantage. But when she glanced surreptitiously over at Ser Gilmore, he appeared to not even have noticed.

Abruptly she sat up. Habren, her mabari, whined softly, and Megan petted her broad head, suppressing a sigh. Gilmore was such a bore! For weeks now she had done her best to seduce him. Suggestive remarks, pointed looks, radiant smiles, none of it had worked. He seemed completely immune to her charms. Though really she wasn't sure why she bothered. He would probably be just as boring in bed as he was out of it.

In moments like these, she really missed Nathaniel. He had understood her, accepted her, both her sometimes vicious sense of humour and her adventurousness in other areas. He had known immediately why she'd called her puppy Habren. _Arl Bryland's daughter. Very fitting. The biggest bitch I've ever met._ And Nathaniel would have been all over her by now.

Megan smiled to herself. If things had gone according to plan, they could have been married already. Arl Howe's son would have been a perfectly acceptable match for Teyrn Cousland's only daughter. There had been enough overt flirting in other people's presence that no one would have been surprised to hear of a courtship between them. Of course her parents hadn't had an inkling how far they had actually gone.

But before they could make it official, Nathaniel's father had sent him off to the Free Marches. There had been wild rumours about a big scandal involving a stable boy. Megan doubted they were true, but one could never be sure with Nathaniel... The one thing she could be absolutely certain of was how much he had desired her. Closing her eyes, she relived in memory the last night they had spent together, the heat of his gaze on her skin as she had taken off her clothes for him, the teasing touch of his hands, his lips, his tongue as he made love to her.

"Hey! There's a rider coming along the road!" Ser Gilmore's voice tore her out of her pleasant musings. To her surprise, he actually sounded excited. "That must be Duncan. I'd better get ready to greet him." He jumped to his feet.

"Duncan?" She gazed up lazily at him. "Who is he? And why are you so... glad to see him?"

As usual, her innuendo went right over Gilmore's head. "Duncan! The Grey Warden. Maker, I hope he'll recruit me." Without a second glance at her, Gilmore headed for the stairs.

Megan shook her head in disbelief. Only Gilmore could actually fall for all that shit he'd been told about the Order of the Grey. Honour and sacrifice and whatnot. _Cold beds and colder comforts, more likely._ Though, come to think of it, at least it would mean getting away from Highever. Her father had that look in his eyes again lately, the one that meant he was on the lookout for a suitable husband for her. And knowing him, _suitable_ probably meant filthy rich, influential and at least forty years older than her.

The rider had reached the gate by now, and she strained her neck trying to get a better look at him as he got off his horse. He wore heavy armour, with a long, straight skirt under it. It looked odd, but not unattractive. When his helmet came off, she just barely suppressed an appreciative whistle. _Very nice_.

He was dark, much darker than she had expected, with a neatly trimmed full beard, his longish hair tied back with a string. Just then he turned, and his gaze fell fully upon her, one eyebrow rising as he noticed her up on the low guard tower. Dark eyes, full of fire and very expressive. He was no longer young, she could tell that even from the distance, but he looked fit and strong.

Megan felt a familiar tingle spread in her belly. Maybe she should go down to the hall to be properly introduced to the stranger... He was here to talk to her father, to evaluate Ser Gilmore, but maybe she could take a closer look at him, even talk to him a little, see where this could go. _Yes. I should definitely meet him._

When she arrived, Habren on her heels, her father and Arl Howe were already deep in conversation with Duncan. He was very polite, yet from the moment she entered the room, she felt his eyes on her, whenever he had an opportunity. Megan smiled, letting her tongue run over her full lips, feeling a spark of pleasure race up her spine when his eyes followed the motion of her tongue. She was still wearing her thin blouse and simple leather pants, and there was a hint of disapproval in her father's expression, but she ignored it with practised ease. She knew she looked good in those clothes, much better than in the prim, proper dresses her mother would pick for her.

Mechanically she played her part in the polite conversation, nodding pleasantly at Arl Howe's transparent attempt to set her up with his younger son, Thomas. _I never cared for Tom, you old fool. It's Nate I want and one day I shall have him._ Duncan had a pleasant voice, deep and rumbling, and she caught herself listening to its vibrations rather than the actual words he said, at least until he suggested she would make a good Grey Warden. She held her breath, curious of what would happen, but of course the Teyrn turned him down. _Can't waste a perfectly good political asset, can you, Father?_

She managed to snatch a few words with Duncan alone before she was sent off like a child. He remained cool and aloof, but his eyes spoke a different language, and she couldn't resist testing the waters a little.

When she suggested they could meet in her room later, his eyes widened. "It would be inappropriate for me to be in your quarters unescorted, my lady."

Megan bit back a grin. "Inappropriate, maybe. Impossible, not so much."

Without waiting for his reaction, she turned to go. She could feel his gaze on her back as she sauntered out of the room. _Come on, Warden. Admit it. You're sorely tempted._

* * *

Duncan exhaled deeply when the door closed behind him, leaving him alone in his room. Conversing with nobles always tired him out. So many rules to observe, so little room for frankness and plain speech. The Teyrn was just about bearable, but Arl Howe... He shook his head in disgust as he took off his armour, piece by piece, and changed into well-worn leather pants and a shirt. And Ser Gilmore had been a disappointment as well. For all his eagerness, the young man was hardly Warden material. _Those nobles are so... insipid._

The only exception was the Teyrn's daughter. He smiled at the thought of her. Definitely a firecracker. Bryce Cousland had his work cut out for him if he intended to tame her. Briefly he allowed himself to wonder how serious she had been when she'd asked him to come to her room later. He had watched her discreetly at dinner where she had been seated next to a young man her mother had foisted upon her. Darren, Dairren, something like that. From what Duncan had observed, the boy had made every possible effort to get into her pants, but she had easily held him at a distance.

Judging from the way she had flirted with him earlier, the younger Cousland obviously had some sort of experience with men, likely more than her father realized. And there was no denying she was young and sweet, with a lovely smile and a body that was everything a man could dream about. Beautiful blue-green eyes too, and he'd always liked that particular shade of strawberry blond. _Stop it. She's the Teyrn's daughter. No matter how flirtatious she may seem, you'd be wise to keep your distance._ But then, wisdom had never been his strongest suit...

He had just settled down in an armchair near the fireplace with a glass of wine, when a tiny noise behind him made him swirl around, reaching for his dagger. When he heard a soft, tinkling laugh, he relaxed a little, recognizing her voice. Megan was standing in a corner, a cheeky smile on her freckled face. She hadn't even flinched at his sudden movement. _The nerve on that girl!_ He couldn't help but admire her for it.

"What are you doing here?" Slowly he got up, keeping his eyes firmly on her.

"You said it was inappropriate for you to come to my room." There was the tiniest hint of a pout playing around her full lips, and he was seized by a sudden urge to kiss it away. "So I figured I'd better come to yours."

Without the slightest bit of hesitation, she walked toward him, stopping right before him and letting her eyes travel up his body until she met his. "I have so many questions about the Wardens. And I'm sure you can enlighten me."

Duncan swallowed. She was so close he could feel her warmth, smell her scent, see her chest rise with each breath under the thin linen of her shirt. "How did you get into my room?"

Her smile widened. "This is my home, Duncan. I know my way around the Keep, always have. I won't tell you, though." Her eyes were blinking mischievously. "You'll find that I'm good at keeping secrets."

His heart beat faster at the implication. "If your father knew you were here-"

"I wasn't planning on telling him." Rising on tiptoes, she placed her hands on his shoulders, bringing her face even closer to his. "I never do."

_So it's true. She's definitely not an innocent._ And she was lovely. Once more Duncan listed all the reasons why he shouldn't do this in his head. The Teyrn's reaction if he ever found out; the age difference between them; the Taint and all its implications. But then she closed her eyes, sighing softly, and the temptation became more than he could bear.

The tiniest move of his head was enough to make their lips touch, and once the dam was broken, he couldn't resist claiming her mouth, deepening the kiss while his hands wandered up her back, pulling her close. She came into his embrace willingly, her hands palming his ass, then sliding to the front and cupping him through his pants. His hips moved involuntarily into her touch.

"Where did a Teyrn's daughter learn to behave like this?" He bit back a moan as she squeezed him harder. Watching her avidly, he let his hand wander to her chest and circled one pert nipple with his thumb.

"I told you I'm good at keeping secrets." Megan laughed even as her face contorted with lust. "Blight it, Duncan, we are wearing far too many clothes."

He was inclined to agree. Fortunately her shirt came off quickly as soon as she untied the laces. He lifted her up, balancing her precariously on the back of his chair and arranging her slim legs around his waist. His lips latched onto her breasts, and she responded with a greedy whine, her fingers running through his hair and loosening the tie holding it together as she wound strands of it around her hand. Her grip was hard enough to be painful, but it was the good kind of pain and he instinctively sucked harder, grinding himself into her, urgent and hot.

She was trying to push his shirt off his shoulders, when a quick, sharp knock on the door made them start. "Ser Duncan. The Teyrn would like to have another word with you." Ser Gilmore's voice.

For a moment he was sorely tempted to send the young man away, to keep the Teyrn waiting until they were done, but then prudence won over. "I'm coming."

Megan rolled her eyes at him as he pulled back. "Well, I'm not, it seems, at least not tonight. My father will probably keep you up until the small hours."

Duncan bit back a grin, glad she'd kept her voice down. While they hunted for her shirt, he nervously made conversation with Ser Gilmore through the heavy door. Slipping it on, she disappeared into the shadows near the window, blowing him a kiss before she left.

As Duncan followed the young man through the Keep's corridors, he felt euphoric, younger than he had in years. Megan's sweet taste, the eagerness of her response, the promise of more if he stayed on a little longer... that was well worth keeping a straight face in Teyrn Cousland's company. _Tomorrow..._

 

 


	2. The Journey

**Chapter 2 - The Journey**

Duncan kept a watchful eye on Megan while he was putting up their tent for the night. So far she'd been astonishingly quiet, talking to no one but her mabari. All through the horrors of the past night, Arl Howe's treacherous attack on the Keep, the slaughter of her family and friends, her parents' final sacrifice, she hadn't shed a tear, had hardly batted an eyelash. She had followed him quietly for all of the following day, without questioning where he was taking her or why. He was worried she might still be in shock.

Inside the tent, she began taking off her clothes without any care for his presence. He was almost ashamed to admit to himself how much the sight of her slim naked body affected him as it brought back a rush of memories from the night before. Her silky skin, pebbling under his touch, her quick gasps as he caressed her... Clearing his throat, he had already begun to turn away when he caught sight of the large bruise on her back.

"What's this?" Stepping closer, he traced the discoloured patch of skin with his fingertips. "When did it happen and why didn't you tell me?"

She shrugged. "Some time last night. I don't remember. It doesn't hurt much."

Rage rose within his throat. "Don't give me that bullshit." He reached into his pack for a salve. "Next time you're wounded, you tell me right away, you hear me?"

Megan nodded without a word, leaning into his touch with half-closed eyes and a pleased sigh as he worked the salve into the bruise. Her skin was wonderfully soft and warm, and the way her back curved down made him want to run his hands deeper, past the waistline of her pants... _Maker!_ What on Thedas was wrong with him? She was hurt, desperate, her whole world gone to pieces, and all he could think about was how much he wanted her. Duncan took a deliberate step back, letting his hands drop to his side and clenching them into fists.

Her eyes flew open and she turned to face him, completely unconcerned about her nakedness. "What's the matter? Why so shy, all of a sudden?"

He struggled for words. "Megan, I... With all you've been through, I can't... I won't take advantage of you now. It wouldn't be decent."

Her eyes flashed with sudden anger. "You... what? What on Thedas is that supposed to mean? If anything, I'd be using you." Ignoring his attempts to reply she went on. "You listen to me. I've lost my family, my home, my future. You're dragging me off to join the Wardens, to fight monsters and risk my life on a daily basis. And now you're going to deny me the one thing that will make me forget, at least for a little while?" Grabbing his neck she pulled him down until his lips brushed against hers. "Maker damn it, Duncan, stop the excuses and kiss me. Fuck me. And don't you dare let go of me till morning."

Her words hit him right in the guts. Who was he to tell her how to grieve, to decide what was _decent_ and what wasn't? He had hardly been a paragon of virtue for most of his life. He'd spent more than one night with faceless strangers, trying to chase away the nightmares and forget about the pain. Who was he to deny her the same comfort?

He kissed her greedily, eager to recapture her taste, to feel the slide of her tongue against his, the rasp of her teeth over his lips. _So sweet, so young._ For a moment, the enormity of what he would do to her hit him. He was going to subject her to the Taint, condemn her to an early death, to a life of war and blood and tears. She didn't deserve that; no one did. And yet, something told him he had to do it, even though he couldn't name a reason; even though it broke his heart.

The pain made his desire all the more urgent, and he practically tore the clothes off her. She gave as good as she got, her nails raking down his chest, her lips hot and hungry everywhere on his body. _Maker, if she's like this now, she'll be incredible once she's a Warden._ The thought nearly made him blush, but then she dragged him down to the floor, her hand worming its way into his pants and he could no longer think clearly.

* * *

Megan was burning, half mad with lust and grief, her whole body aching with need under Duncan's skilful caresses. Last night he had been a delicious diversion, an exotic delicacy to be sampled before she returned to her normal life. Tonight he was infinitely more. His gaze was all that anchored her to reality; his body warmed her and made her feel alive in the face of all the death and horror. And she wanted him, wanted _this_ with a wild abandon that was wholly new.

She didn't even fully trust him, not when he had been so quick to conscript her, so eager to claim her for the Order. But his touch soothed her pain, making her shudder with arousal instead. And once she had him out of his clothes, she was almost overwhelmed by the sheer gorgeousness of him. His skin was smooth and dark, his wide chest completely hairless, his stomach rippling with taut muscles. He was in perfect shape, his muscles long and lean, every inch a warrior. His hair was thick and dark, with only a few greying strands at the temples, and his beard was well trimmed.

When she reached down to take hold of him again, he swatted her hand aside with a growl, pinning her to the floor with his weight as he went for her breasts. With a shudder she realized that he would be firmly in charge of this encounter, and the thought made her want him even more. Compared to him, all the other men she'd been with had been mere boys. He wouldn't be content with teasing and playing. He would take what he wanted and make her beg for more. 

And yet she had a feeling he was holding back, even as he sucked and licked her to a fever pitch, every caress going straight down to her core; even as he spread her legs and slid a thigh between them, pressing it hard against her until she saw stars; even as he slid a firm hand up her leg and opened her wide, his fingers sliding easily between her folds because she was so very, very wet for him. Even then she instinctively knew he was careful not to hurt her, careful to hold on to a last remnant of control and it irked her, though the sane part of her brain acknowledged he was probably right. She wasn't a Warden yet.

When he thrust inside her, hard and deliberate, all those questions became moot. There was just him, pushing his way deep inside her, his body flush against hers, his eyes holding her gaze mercilessly. He _moved_ , just a shallow thrust and she couldn't stop a high-pitched cry from escaping her lips. There was a decidedly smug expression on his face as he pulled back and repeated the motion with a slightly changed angle, even better this time and she cried out again.

 _One day, you arrogant bastard, I will pay you back for this. One day I will make you whimper for me just as-_ Another thrust, deeper and harder this time, and she lost all capacity for coherent thinking. It all became a blur, of heat and lust and sweet, sweet torment until it coalesced into a single blinding light and she was keening in his arms, her whole body racked with shudders.

He let go then, as much as he would allow himself to, and finished within her with a few quick strokes. She watched him as he reached his peak, utterly smitten by the look on his face, the quick, passing moment of vulnerability when he was all hers. 

The triumphant elation she felt at the thought was almost enough to make her forget the pain. Almost.

* * *

When she opened her eyes in the morning, Duncan was already up and tending the fire outside. Megan didn't mind. It was good to have a moment to herself, a moment to consider what to do next. Her body felt pleasantly sore, reminding her of last night's exertions. She had been sure Duncan would be good, but he had easily surpassed her expectations. _The best sex I've had in months._

With a sigh, she reached for her pack and rummaged about for a certain tea. Duncan hadn't asked her to take any precautions last night. She was a tiny bit surprised that he wasn't worried about getting her pregnant, but then again, very few men stopped to think for long enough. It was fortunate that she had long ago had a quiet chat with the apothecary at Highever whose herbs could be relied on to prevent any unwanted surprises. 

"You're awake." He ducked in through the tent's opening, watching her with a guarded expression. "Are you-"

"I'm fine, thank you." She stretched, deliberately letting the blanket slip from her naked body, and was pleased to see a flash of renewed desire in his eyes. _He wants more. Good._

They got ready quickly, and were soon on the path again, Habren bounding happily ahead. "How long till we reach Ostagar?" She glanced at him from the side.

"Two weeks, if we're lucky. Maybe we'll find your brother there." Duncan's words were an obvious attempt to cheer her up, but as far as Megan was concerned, it was an epic failure.

"Fergus. Maybe." She wasn't too sure she wanted to see him. Right now, it seemed easiest to keep her family's fate safely locked away, in some dark recess of her mind. Talking to Fergus, telling him about that horrible night, seeing the pain in his eyes when he learnt of his wife and son's death, was the last thing she wanted.

Duncan gave her a sharp look, but seemed to sense she wanted to avoid the topic. "You'll meet several other Warden recruits there. I... I'd appreciate it if you didn't let them know about last night."

She felt her lips twitch. "About last night? So you believe it was a one-time thing?"

He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed, but when he caught her gaze, he was smiling too, to her surprise. "No. Probably not." There was enough heat in his eyes to create a pleasant tingle on her skin. "But really, please don't mention it to any of the others."

"Why not?" She couldn't quite resist teasing him. "Would they be offended? Or jealous?"

He chuckled, but didn't reply, opting to change the topic instead. "When you came to my room, you said you were curious about the Wardens." His tone was dry. "You have all the more reason to be so now. So ask."

Megan hesitated. "Will you answer any question I have?"

Duncan shook his head, his face grave. "No. There are secrets I'm not allowed to divulge until you are one of us. But I'll do my best to answer what I can."

She nodded. "Fair enough. What do I have to do in order to become a Warden?"

"There's a ritual, the Joining. You drink from a chalice and join the Order. Wardens dedicate their life to fighting darkspawn, and through this ritual they become uniquely equipped to do so." It was obvious from his body language that he was holding something back.

Megan aimed for a light tone. "Uniquely equipped? What exactly do you mean?"

He took a deep breath. "You'll become stronger, more resilient. You'll have a lot more stamina, too."

"More stamina, eh?" Once again she couldn't resist a saucy grin. "Any downsides?"

"Increased appetites. For food and... other things." Duncan kept his tongue firmly in cheek.

"I fail to see how that's a problem." Megan wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Anything else?"

"Well, there's the nightmares." His face turned sober. "I'm sure you noticed, last night."

She had. He'd tossed and turned in his sleep, occasionally jerking wide awake. Whatever he had seen in his sleep must have been bad enough to make a seasoned warrior like him shiver and tremble. Megan swallowed briefly. Highever had been bad enough. What else awaited her?

Duncan watched her face carefully. Megan wasn't stupid. She had to know he wasn't telling her the whole truth. For a moment he considered saying more, but then he stopped himself, quickening his pace instead. She scrambled to keep up with his longer stride as they continued down the road.

Two weeks to Ostagar. He had a feeling it would be an interesting time for both of them.


	3. The Taskmaster

**Chapter 3 - The Taskmaster**

Fortunately the weather held, with only an occasional drizzle. As he wandered through the forest near their campsite, looking for fresh water and small game, Duncan thanked his lucky stars for that. He had travelled through Ferelden before and was only too familiar with the vagaries of its weather. In his experience, anything short of torrential downpours of rain and roads dissolving into mud counted as a lucky break.

When he returned to camp, he casually dropped two dead squirrels to the ground next to Megan. "Skin them and cook them for us, will you?"

"You're kidding me, right?" Megan, who'd been busy brushing dirt off her leather boots, looked up at him incredulously.

Duncan shrugged. "Have you never skinned an animal before?"

Megan pulled herself up to her full height, huffing indignantly. "Sure I have. My father's taken me hunting for as long as I can remember. I know how to deal with deer, boar, hares. But squirrels? There's hardly enough meat on them to tempt the dog."

Duncan sighed. Having a recruit from a noble family didn't make things easier for him. "When you're a Warden, there will be times when you will pray to the skies for some squirrel meat in your stew."

She rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "You sound just like my Nan."

He didn't deign to reply, choosing to change the topic instead. "After we've eaten, get ready for another sparring session. You still need more practice with your left hand if you want to stand a chance against a serious opponent."

Megan gave him a sharp look, but nodded, keeping her insolent tongue in check for once. The first time they'd fought, she'd been cocky, sure of her skill with sword and dagger and proud of her fine set of weapons. He'd shown her soon enough how much she still had to learn. She hadn't given up, though, her freckled face pale with determination as she attacked him over and over until she found some small chink in his defences.

And then, afterwards, in the darkness of the tent, she had come into his arms again, hot and ardent and it had been another kind of struggle. He didn't doubt this evening would end in the same way. With a pleasant shudder, he reached for a knife to chop up some potatoes. Megan was anything but docile, but teaching her had its rewards.

* * *

They made good progress, crossing most of the Bannorn on quiet back roads and paths. Megan was impressed by Duncan's knowledge of the land. When they reached the Drakon River and prepared to cross, she realized with a shock that it was more than a week since they'd left Highever. More than a week had passed since her parents had died and Gilmore had sacrificed himself so she could escape.

For a moment the memories threatened to come to the surface, choking her, but Megan firmly fought them back. _Not now_. Maybe there would be time to grieve, later, when all this was over. But right now, there was simply no way she could allow herself to break down.

Duncan found them a boat, and they loaded their belongings into it. Habren took some persuading before she would climb onto the wobbly surface. Megan tried to be patient, but not for the first time she cursed fate for having settled her with such a temperamental dog. Finally the mabari curled up at the far end of the boat with an aggrieved whine, and Megan followed her with a deep sigh. Duncan was about to join them, when there was a whirring noise and an arrow buried itself in the boat's prow.

He whirled around, deflecting a second arrow with his backpack. "Bandits! Quick. To the other shore."

Before she could grasp what he was doing, he gave the boat a hard shove, pushing it out into the current. Jumping back, he drew his daggers. It all happened so fast! She found herself several yards downstream, drifting away from him.

"Blight it, Duncan, what do you think you're doing?" Megan was furious.

But he ignored her, throwing himself at the advancing bandits with a savage battle cry. Megan watched him in impotent rage. He was hopelessly outnumbered, even if she took his Warden powers into account.

"Duncan!" She allowed herself a particularly inventive curse. As if she stood a chance of reaching Ostagar on her own if he got himself killed now!

When she finally managed to paddle the boat to the shore, Megan was wet and exhausted, and more than a little angry. She took a little time to rest and hide their belongings in the fork of a tree before she doubled back along the shore to find him. Stupid Warden, with his stupid idea of protecting her at all costs! She could only hope he'd survived long enough.

* * *

Duncan had pretty much used up his own repertoire of curses by the time the bandits finally settled into their nightly routine, leaving him tied to a post outside their leader's tent. Their camp was a pathetic affair, really. In the normal course of events, this lot shouldn't have been a threat for two trained fighters, but he had been distracted by the dog's behaviour, and he had foolishly deprived himself of Megan's help. Looking back, he realized how misguided his act of chivalry had been.

The bandits had stripped him of his armour and weapons, but otherwise left him alone. They seemed to have some vague idea that a "knight" like him would bring a ransom. He rolled his eyes at their stupidity. As if anyone would pay for a Warden's release! Still, he was alive, and there might be a chance to flee later. The bandits had robbed a wine merchant earlier in the day and had celebrated their victory raucously. Most of his captors had already fallen into a drunken stupor, but they had been clever enough to keep the two men assigned for guard duty relatively sober.

Night fell, and the camp grew quiet, except for the occasional snore or hiccup. He would have liked to catch some sleep while he could, but his legs felt cramped, and the spot where they had left him was damp and uncomfortable. So he entertained himself by watching the guards instead. One of them had taken up position right across from him, leaning against a tree, idly picking his nails with his dagger.

When the guard's head flew up, Duncan tensed, but before the man could even open his mouth to cry out, he was already slumping forward with a low gurgle, a deep gash across his throat. Only moments later Duncan heard a scrabbling noise from behind, and then felt a blade saw through the leather ties around his wrists.

"Megan." He was pleasantly surprised, if a little shocked at the ruthlessness with which she had gotten rid of the guards.

"Shhhh." When the ties came loose, her hands were warm on his wrists, rubbing back some feeling into them. "Can you walk? We need to get your stuff."

He nodded, and moments later he was at her side, sneaking through the camp to the big pile of loot the bandits had left carelessly near the fire. It was easy enough to recover his belongings. While he readied his daggers, Megan spared a few moments to dig through the pile, and quickly filled her pockets with the few pieces of jewellery among the junk the bandits had accumulated.

When she saw his surprised gaze, she grinned. "Better us than them," she mouthed at him.

He opened his mouth, but then thought better of it. Silently he followed her into the night.

* * *

As soon as they were back on the other side of the river, Megan allowed herself to relax. She was more than a little proud of her rescue, and she hoped Duncan would properly appreciate it. They recovered their belongings and moved on a little further before setting up camp in a small clearing, Habren keeping watch, while they crawled into the tent.

Duncan smiled at her while he helped her out of her armour. "Thank you. I didn't fancy spending the night in that place." Breathing a kiss on her neck, he lay back and pulled her closer. "I much prefer your company and the privacy of our tent."

Kissing him fiercely, Megan moved to straddle him, but he shook his head, rolling her over and pinning her down to the ground.

She pouted, beating her fists against his chest. "I shouldn't have taken off your bonds so soon."

Duncan raised a surprised eyebrow. "Why?"

She grinned, raking her nails down his back. "Because just once, I would like to be on top." Nibbling up his neck, she purred into his ear. "Just once, I'd like to have my way with you, and you powerless to make me stop."

He pulled back a little, looking searchingly into her eyes. "That's what you want?"

When she nodded, he laughed, a deep rumble of a laugh. "I won't let you tie me up." He grinned at her disappointed face. "There's no need." Rolling on his back, he stretched out next to her, his hands open at his side. "Go ahead. Do what you will."

Megan couldn't hold back a smirk. "Really? Are you sure you have enough willpower for this?"

"Try me." He was still smiling, but his eyes had darkened, and she could feel his desire, charging the air between them almost to fever pitch.

"Fine." She licked her lips, a little nervous now she had what she'd asked for. This time she would break his control! This time he would beg for her.

Moving back a little, out of his reach, she stretched, as far as the tent would allow, and slowly, very slowly began to peel off her breastband. He watched her intently, keeping perfectly still, a slight shaking of his hands all that betrayed his growing arousal. Leaning back, she cupped her naked breasts with both hands, squeezing them gently, then circled her nipples with her fingertips, pinching them until they were stiff and rosy. He lay still, but his hands clenched into fists.

Megan smiled lazily and let her hand trail down to her smalls, teasing herself through the damp fabric, moaning unrestrainedly at the feel of her own hand. Keeping her gaze on his face, she worked the fingers of one hand under the thin fabric, revelling in his sharp intake of breath. When she shimmied out of her smalls, he twitched for a moment, as if tempted to reach for her, but a stern glance sufficed to hold him back.

She couldn't keep her hands off him any longer. Her nimble fingers made short work of the fastenings of his shirt and pants, and with a little manoeuvring, she soon had him naked. Magnificently naked, his body all muscles and sinews under smooth dark skin, his cock hard and leaking fluid, the tension in his posture showing how much it cost him to hold back now.

She bent down and licked once along the length of him, smiling when his eyes rolled back and he moaned brokenly. "Tell me what you want, Duncan." Maker, it was intoxicating, to see him like this, hungry and greedy for her.

"You." His voice was rough and husky. "Now."

Every muscle in his body was trembling, and she realized he was reaching the end of his tether. "Pretty please?"

His eyes crinkled in genuine amusement, but his voice was breathless. "Please. I'm begging you."

"Good." With a satisfied nod, she moved on top of him. She briefly considered teasing him some more, but if she was completely honest, she couldn't wait either. Sliding down the length of him, she moaned aloud, then moved her hips in a single, slow circle.

"Blight it, Megan!" His composure broke, and his hands grabbed her hips in a punishing grip while he thrust upwards once.

It felt so good, that rough, hard motion, and it felt good to be on top, the angle subtly different than the other times he'd taken her, her body free to move the way she wanted. He didn't keep still any longer, but he let her set the pace, let her torment him with slow, trance-like movements until she had enough and picked up speed, riding him hard now, whimpering whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

Their bodies firmly intertwined, their eyes locked, they took each other higher and higher, until they both came nearly simultaneously, both crying out with the force of their release, her body clenching hard around him. He kept holding her afterwards, his hands splayed over her naked back, his heart beating fast against her skin.

"Well?" Duncan threw her an amused glance as he reached for his blanket. "Happy now?"

Megan didn't answer, just smiled quietly. It was good to have been in charge for once. But really, even he would probably admit they had both won tonight.

 


	4. The Recruit

**Chapter 4 - The Recruit**

A few days after they'd crossed the river, Duncan woke Megan with a grim face. His nightmares had been worse than usual, and he looked tired and worn-out. "We should arrive at Ostagar tomorrow. This is where the bulk of the horde will show itself."

That evening, he didn't waste any time on sparring before he dragged her into the tent with him. Afterwards, he pulled her up on top of him, his face serious. "Megan. We need to talk." His hand followed the line of her back, all the way down to her curvy bottom. "Listen, I hate to say it, but this is our last time. As soon as we're at Ostagar, this will have to end. I'm the Warden Commander. I can't-" He broke off, biting his lip.

"Are you ashamed of me?" She raised an eyebrow, annoyance welling up inside her.

He shook his head. "Ashamed of my own lack of restraint, maybe. I should never have- But anyway, it wouldn't be right. Alistair would be horrified."

"Is he one of the other Wardens? Or a recruit?" Megan grinned. "Whoever he is, I don't care what he thinks. Come on, Duncan." She nipped at his lip. "Don't be so damn proper."

But he shook his head. "I'm not joking. You'll meet your fellow recruits tomorrow, Ser Jory and Daveth. Alistair too. He hasn't been a Warden for long, but he takes it seriously. As should you."

Megan pouted, rolling off him with a resigned sigh. "Ah, well, suit yourself." She wasn't in the mood to quarrel with him. But she silently swore to herself that she wouldn't accept this. _I will yet make him change his mind._

* * *

To her surprise, King Cailan himself was there to greet them as they reached the army camp, and he seemed genuinely happy to see Duncan. "It seems I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all. Glorious!"

Cailan was much as she remembered him, all charming smiles and boyish enthusiasm, but when he recognized her, a frown appeared on his handsome features. " _You_ are the new Warden recruit? I can't imagine Bryce allowing this."

Duncan must have seen her swallow. With a few terse words he explained what had happened at Highever.

Cailan was doubtful at first, but then he burst into a veritable flood of assurances. "Howe will not profit from this. I swear, my lady. As soon as the battle is over, I will take the army north and bring him to justice." He practically vibrated with righteous wrath, but then he shook his head. "Of course there is nothing I can do right now. You understand that, don't you?"

Megan felt the urge to spit to get rid of the bitter taste in her mouth. _So that's it? A bunch of vague promises?_ Though, if she was honest, she hadn't really expected more. She had rarely met Cailan in person, but she had grown up surrounded by people who knew him well, and she was well aware he preferred big words to actual deeds.

With growing incredulity, she listened as the king talked to Duncan. Cailan actually seemed _disappointed_ the Archdemon hadn't been sighted. "I'd hoped for a war like in the tales! A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god!"

When he finally left them alone, Megan rolled her eyes at Duncan. "Maker! Does he ever think before he opens that pretty mouth of his?"

Duncan chuckled. "Don't be so hard on him. The common people love him. And he genuinely means well."

"Maybe, but this isn't some kind of game!" Megan shook her head incredulously. "Honestly, I just hope Loghain can talk some sense into him."

Duncan's lips tightened. "Loghain has far too much influence over the king, and he's blinded by his hatred of everything Orlesian. At least Cailan trusts us Wardens enough to join our fight against the darkspawn. This Blight must be stopped, Megan. Here and now."

Megan didn't answer. Some part of her was less than certain that trusting Duncan, trusting the Wardens was such a good idea. The tales of the rebellion she had heard since she was a child were vivid in her mind, and Loghain's stance didn't seem all that unreasonable to her. But would Duncan understand? When all was said and done, he was no Fereldan. His only real concern was ending the Blight, and if that meant another Orlesian occupation, it was just as well by him.

She was torn out of her reverie when he introduced her to Alistair. The young Warden seemed likeable enough, if a little immature, and he was obviously very much in awe of Duncan. Megan briefly considered shaking him up a little, but Duncan threw her a sharp gaze before he left and she decided to let it go for the moment, listening with half an ear to Alistair's chatter as he led her around the camp. She had questioned Duncan thoroughly about her fellow recruits and was eager to meet them. Ser Jory was nowhere to be seen, but they soon found Daveth.

 _So that's the thief_. He was busy flirting with a pretty young camp-follower, and Megan took advantage of that to size him up. _Not bad-looking, not at all._ A few years older than her, with dark hair and light brown eyes, a hint of stubble on his face emphasizing his clear-cut cheekbones. He was dressed in leathers and carrying a longbow. _An archer!_

The thought brought back memories of Nathaniel, watching him best Fergus at the archery range, beaming with pride, his back straight as his strong arms pulled the string. But thinking of Nate made her think of his father and of Highever, and that hurt, and she didn't want to think about it, not now!

Fortunately Daveth opened his mouth to speak right then, and his thick accent immediately made the resemblance fade away. "Ah, the newest recruit. You're not what I thought you'd be. It's about bloody time you came along."

He was fun to be around, though, and Megan took the opportunity to attach herself to him instead of Alistair, following him through the crowds and listening attentively as he told her what he had overheard when sneaking around the Wardens. Apparently the recruits would have to go out into the Korcari Wilds tomorrow, on some sort of mission. Daveth, who was a local boy, seemed less than happy about the prospect.

They stopped at one of the stalls. Pretty trinkets and small magical rings were displayed on the counter, and Megan couldn't quite resist the temptation. When the stall owner turned his back to her to talk to Daveth, she snatched one of the rings and slipped it into her pocket.

Daveth bought a small good-luck charm and bid the merchant a friendly good-bye, but as soon as they were out of hearing distance, he grabbed her wrist hard. "What do you think you're doing here?"

"Ouch." She threw him a wounded look. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You don't?" Without hesitation, his hand dipped into her pocket, and he retrieved the ring. "You're lucky I'm not a guardsman, or you would be getting comfortable in one of those cages now." His face dead serious, he shook his head in disbelief. "Really, you're a bloody beginner. My masters would have whipped me for being so careless."

Megan shrugged, doing her best to appear unfazed. "Can you do better?"

He looked surprised for a moment, but then his eyes wrinkled in a genuine smile. "You bet I can. See if you can catch me."

He moved away a few steps, then turned and walked straight past her. She didn't even feel him touch her, couldn't tell what he was doing, but when he caught up with her again, he was holding up her small purse with a triumphant grin.

"See? That's how you do it?"

"How did you-" Megan was baffled. "Give it back!"

His grin widened as he danced backwards, out of her reach. "Come and get it, if you want it back."

 _You think you can play games with me?_ Megan found that she was beginning to enjoy this. _Think again._ Licking her lips, she walked up to him, letting her hips swing a little more than necessary.

"Oh, I want." She let her voice become sultry, noting with approval how his breath hitched at her words.

Slowly she let her eyes wander up his body until she met his gaze and held it. He seemed unable to move, frozen in place by the feelings she had so suddenly woken in him.

"And I'm used to getting what I want." Taking care to avoid any sudden movement, she brushed the fingers of her right hand along his bare upper arm, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake. Daveth swallowed hard and her left hand moved, quick as a snake, snatching the purse from him.

She jumped back with a triumphant giggle. "Got it!"

He seemed stunned for a moment, but then he threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, lovely! We would be a great team, you and I!"

There was still enough heat left in his gaze to make it clear he wasn't only talking about thievery, but Megan decided to ignore the implication for now. "Will you teach me to be as quick and quiet as you?"

He nodded, giving her an almost affectionate glance. "I can show you a few tricks. It takes time and practice, though."

They returned to the relative privacy of the Wardens' campsite, deserted at this hour with all the Wardens off for dinner, and Daveth proceeded to make good on his promise. He was surprisingly patient, going through the same motions with her over and over again, while explaining how to avoid detection by distracting her target. She didn't miss the way his eyes lingered on her breasts, nor the many accidental touches he sneaked in during their practice. He was obviously thrilled by her interest and more than ready to take his further.

A small smile played around her lips when she thought of what Duncan would say if he found them like this, their heads close together, Daveth standing close behind her, guiding her hand in his to show her one of the more complicated moves. He should be arriving soon...

With a soft purr, she leaned back against the thief, twisting her head to smile at him. "You know, Daveth, you're a really good teacher. I wonder what else you're good at."

He tensed against her. "You're awfully forward for a girl from a good family."

Megan laughed softly. "And you're awfully well-behaved for a common thief."

"I can be less well-behaved if you want me to." Daveth's eyes flashed hotly at her.

She didn't object when he turned her around, his hands firm on her back. Pulling her close to his lean body, he kissed her, hesitantly at first, but getting bolder as soon as he was sure he was welcome. Megan responded eagerly, and he moaned into her mouth, his hands tightening around her waist. He let go of her lips to snatch a quick breath, but then his mouth was back. "Kiss me again. For luck."

Megan complied with a laugh. As soon as the kiss ended, he muttered "again" and caught her lower lip between his teeth. His hand found its way to her neck, painting small circles on her soft skin, and he only let go of her mouth to whisper another breathless "again" against her lips.

"That's a lot of luck." Megan was panting herself by now, moving into his touch with a pleasant shudder.

"Yeah, well, I figure we're going to need all the luck we can get out in the Wilds." He was only half joking, she realized. He really _was_ afraid of that place.

But right now she didn't want to think about tomorrow. He felt good and hard against her, and his nimble hands were already playing with the fastenings of her armour, loosening it enough that he could slip his hand under it and cup her breast through her thin linen undershirt. Megan moaned. She hadn't intended for this to go quite so far. All she had wanted was to make Duncan jealous. Yet this was _nice_ , and right now she didn't have it in her to stop him.

"Megan! Daveth!" Duncan's voice could have cut glass. "Have you got nothing better to do while you prepare for your Joining? I'd have expected better from future Wardens!"

She opened her eyes to see him stand there, his face a mask of fury. The expression in his eyes sent a hot flash to her core.

Daveth immediately let go of her, clearing his throat in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Duncan, I... I should go."

Without another glance at Megan, he slunk off into the dusk, no doubt to seek out other, less risky pleasures.

She remained standing, looking provocatively at Duncan. "Well?"

"My tent. Now." He was still furious, she could tell, and the thought made her shiver. Duncan was usually so polite and controlled, yet she knew how passionate he could be, and it was that kind of response she craved from him right now.

As soon as they were inside, he grabbed her arms hard, hissing angrily at her. "What's going on, Megan? You acted like a common whore right there. Blight it, you're a Cousland!"

She smiled, refusing to be baited and arched into his touch, rubbing herself against his crotch. "And yet it excited you, didn't it? Seeing me with him? Admit it, Duncan. I can feel it anyway."

He gasped for air, opening his mouth as if to protest, but then his lips crushed hers in a fiery kiss, stealing the breath from her. "You don't even want him." His voice was shaky when he let go of her lips.

Megan met his eyes without flinching. "No. I want _you_. But since you weren't ready to give me what I wanted..."

"You little bitch." He moaned against her lips, still holding her in that punishing grip. "Blight it, Megan, you're playing with fire."

She laughed recklessly. "I'm not afraid. Go ahead. Give me all you've got."

Without further warning, he kissed her again with an almost brutal intensity, his hand in her hair forcing her head back. His hands tugged on her armour, practically tearing the pieces off her. His greed was intoxicating and contagious, and she responded in kind, eager to feel his skin on hers. As soon as they were both naked, he turned her around and shoved her hard down to her knees, spreading her legs from behind.

He didn't speak a single word, didn't waste any time on caresses, just thrust inside her hard and deep. Yet Megan was more than ready for him, worked up almost to fever pitch by Daveth's earlier caresses and his own urgent touches. She cried out, flooded by a sudden pleasure so intense it took her breath away. Duncan ignored her, pounding into her without restraint or consideration, his grip on her hips hard enough to hurt.

But oh Maker, she _wanted_ this, wanted him to lose control, and she urged him on shamelessly, begging for _more, harder, deeper_ until everything turned blindingly white and she cried out in utter abandon. He took her straight through the waves of her orgasm, never relenting while she shook over and over, until he too collapsed against her back with a strangled groan.

"Megan." His voice sounded unfamiliar, hoarse and shaky, as he slowly pulled back. "You..."

"Shhh." Turning swiftly below him, she placed a finger on his lips. "Don't speak."

He nodded, letting his head sink down onto her breasts, his weight warm and comforting on top of her. She tangled her fingers into his hair, while he listened to her heartbeat slowing down. She was back where she wanted to be, in his tent, in his arms. It was a small victory, yet one she would treasure.


	5. The Ritual

**Chapter 5 - The Ritual**

 Alistair bent down to gather a few more twigs for firewood, then he rose with a sigh and headed back toward their tiny makeshift camp. They had left Ostagar in the morning, him and the three recruits, tasked by Duncan with killing some darkspawn and bringing back their blood. In addition, he wanted them to look out for a hidden cache of Grey Warden treaties.

They had succeeded soon enough in finding a small group of darkspawn, or rather the monsters had found them. The recruits hadn't acquitted themselves too badly in their first skirmish, he mused. Daveth's bow had been a real asset, and there could be no doubt that Ser Jory was an able fighter. Yet it was Megan who had impressed him most, wielding her two daggers with unexpected grace and speed. But then, she wasn't what he had expected anyway.

When Duncan had introduced her as the daughter of Teyrn Cousland, he had felt slightly intimidated. A lady of her standing would surely be too high and mighty to consort with disgraced Templars and common thieves. But Megan had surprised him by striking up an instant friendship with Daveth. The two of them were happily chatting away now, setting up their bedrolls and cleaning the fire pit. Ser Jory had already disappeared into the darkness, having volunteered for first watch.

"Alistair." Megan smiled at him when he handed her the firewood. "Thanks."

She proceeded to quickly build a fire, then rose and stretched gracefully, eyeing the darkening sky with no small measure of distrust. "Maker, this place is giving me the creeps."

He nodded. "The Wilds are a dangerous place. No one lives here but a few scattered tribes of Chasind Barbarians. That's why the Tevinter Imperium built the fortress at Ostagar, you know. To defend against them."

"I know." She flashed him a quick reassuring smile, but he felt like a fool anyway. Of course she knew. A teyrn's daughter would have learnt all of this as a matter of course.

"Barbarians, and witches." Daveth made a quick gesture with his right hand. _Warding off the evil eye_. Alistair raised an eyebrow in surprise. He hadn't expected Daveth to be the superstitious sort.

Megan snorted in amusement. "Witches? I don't think so." Ignoring Daveth's muttering, she turned to address Alistair. "I'm sweaty and bloodied, and that stuff is vile." She indicated the traces of darkspawn blood on her bare arms and legs. "I'll head down to that little stream and wash before it gets completely dark."

He nodded. "We'll stay away until you're done, unless you give us a shout. Be careful."

"Thank you." Another quick smile and she was gone.

Alistair sat down a few paces away from Daveth. The thief was lying stretched out on his bedroll, propped up on his left elbow, his long legs close to the fire's warmth.

"So we're going to be all gentlemanly about it. A pity." He sighed and winked at Alistair. "I wouldn't have minded a peek at that trim little body of hers."

Alistair cleared his throat. "Don't talk like that, Daveth. You should treat her with more respect. Soon you'll both be Wardens, and she'll be your sister."

" _Sister_ is not the first word that comes to my mind." Daveth's grin widened. "Come on, Alistair, admit it. She's sweet and pretty. Don't tell me you haven't wondered what's under those leathers, or imagined how she would feel around you, hot and tight..."

"Daveth!" He felt his ears heat up.

To his utter shock and amazement, Daveth leaned back with a broad grin, untying the laces of his leather pants and slipping a hand inside. "Well I know what _I_ was thinking about all last night." He gave himself a few long, measured strokes, making Alistair nearly choke on his tea.

"Don't be such a prude." The thief's voice was openly amused. "I thought you grew up in the Chantry. Don't tell me there was nothing of that kind going on in the boys' dormitory."

Alistair squirmed uncomfortably, keeping his gaze on the treetops as he listened to Daveth's quickening breaths, trying to ignore the other noises he could hear. Like everyone else who had travelled rough, he was used to turning a blind eye, or rather a deaf ear, to any kind of... activity in the other bedrolls once the fire had burned down. But none of his companions had ever been quite as candid about it as Daveth. He considered getting up and walking away, but their camp was surrounded by thick undergrowth on all sides, except for the path Megan had taken, down to the stream. And he certainly wouldn't want Daveth to think he was sneaking off to take a look at her.

Just then a twig cracked, and he glanced up, stunned to see Megan in her place on the other side of the fire. _She's back already. Maker, she really moves as silently as a cat._ He blushed violently at the thought of her noticing what Daveth was up to. But then he realized that her eyes were already firmly fixed on the thief's prone figure. Her pupils were wide and dark and her lips half-opened as she watched Daveth. His hand had picked up speed now, and he was pumping himself in a steady, assured rhythm.

"Daveth!" Alistair hissed again, but the other man ignored him completely, his gaze locking with Megan's as he gripped himself harder, his hips jerking into his hand.

The heat building between the two of them was almost tangible, and Alistair's cheeks were flaming hot. What were they _doing_? He had to get away from this. With a quick curse, he got to his feet. Just then Megan's tongue darted out to lick her lips and Daveth bucked up hard with a rough groan. Megan's answering gasp was clearly audible. Without another look at them, Alistair fled into the darkness. He would keep Ser Jory company. He didn't want to know more.

When he returned to wake Daveth after his own watch, Megan was fast asleep in her own bedroll, a tiny smile playing around her lips. He shook his head. This was not how he had expected a noble young lady to behave. But then, he didn't really know all that much about noble young ladies.

Neither Daveth nor Megan showed any signs of remorse in the morning. They continued their search for the missing papers, dispatching several small darkspawn patrols in the progress. By now, they had all the blood they needed, and Alistair was getting impatient. He didn't fancy another night out here. More embarrassment was the last thing he needed.

So it was to his utter relief when they finally stumbled upon the cache. But his relief quickly became disappointment when it turned out to be empty. Duncan had been clear about the importance of those papers. What were they to do?

"Well, well, what have we here?" A deep, sultry voice behind him made him snap around.

The woman approaching them was dressed like a Chasind Barbarian, her flimsy garments barely enough for modesty. He averted his eyes from her half-naked breasts, too flustered to take in what she was saying about _scavengers_ and _intruders_. Fortunately Megan had no such qualms. She greeted the woman in a clear, firm voice, even as Daveth was muttering incoherent nonsense about her being the _Witch of the Wilds_ , about to turn them into toads.

The stranger's name was Morrigan, and it soon became clear that she knew where to find the treaties. In a flash of anger, Alistair accused her of stealing them, but once again Megan averted a potential crisis by remaining calm and collected. When Morrigan took them to her mother, Flemeth, it was Megan who negotiated with the old hag, making sure they got the papers.

None of this was quite enough to allay Alistair's suspicions. As Morrigan led them back to the camp, he kept at her side, watching her carefully.

Behind them, he could hear Megan tease Daveth about his superstitions. "Oh come on, Daveth. A big, strapping lad like you, afraid of witches?" Her tone was laced with provocation. "Are you afraid of the dark too? Do you need me to keep you company tonight, hold your hand? Or maybe something else?"

Morrigan glanced at him, amusement clearly written on her face. "She is strong, that one, and she will go on to do great things, if she survives that stupid ritual of yours. 'Tis pity she's a whore."

Alistair inhaled sharply. How did Morrigan know about the ritual? It was supposed to be a Warden secret. At the same time, he blushed at her frank assessment of Megan. It was nothing but sheer spite, he told himself. The witch was trying to pit them against each other by throwing around insults. Sure, Megan had a loose tongue, and her behaviour last night had been less than proper, but she hadn't actually _done_ anything reprehensible, had she? Besides, he had a strong feeling she wouldn't appreciate it if he weighed in on the matter.

Anyway, whatever Morrigan said, he couldn't help liking Megan. She was so bright and cheerful, a breath of fresh air, despite everything she'd been through. And it was such a relief to be with someone who took matters in hand, who made the decisions that always gave him so much trouble. He rather hoped she would survive the Joining.

* * *

For the third time this afternoon, Duncan headed toward the camp's western gate to look out for the recruits. They had been gone for almost two days, more than enough time to fulfil their mission. He was more worried than he cared to admit, and he knew what he was feeling wasn't just the normal protectiveness toward new recruits. Alistair was dear to him, but if he was quite honest, it was Megan whose image he saw in his mind as he looked out over the deserted landscape.

Somewhere out there, she was fighting darkspawn with the others, defending herself against monsters that were the stuff of nightmares. How was she holding up? He told himself it was silly to worry about her. Megan was a born survivor; he had known that ever since he first set sight on her.

He should probably be more worried about the others; Ser Jory, who was a family man and had left his pregnant wife behind at Redcliffe, and Daveth, who for all his bravado wasn't really much good in a fight once things got up close and personal. Well, at least with Daveth, his conscience was clear enough. The man had been a professional thief, and if Duncan hadn't conscripted him, he would have faced the gallows instead.

Duncan sighed. No matter what he told himself, it never got any easier. Even if they survived the Joining, he was condemning them to an existence no normal person could wish for. He was about to return to his tent, when he spotted movement in the distance. They were back.

* * *

The Joining was a nightmare, even more so than Alistair's had been, and they had lost all the other recruits back then. But this was worse. Duncan was furious at himself. He should have known Ser Jory wouldn't have the nerve to go through with it.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant."As he had intoned the familiar words of the ritual, the knight had already begun to shake.

And then Daveth had died. Daveth, who had been so willing to take the risk, so philosophical about it all. Duncan could still hear the thief's last words, echoing in his mind. _I'd sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight._ They would remember him, honour his memory. Megan had turned pale as a sheet, but she hadn't turned back.

Not so Jory. Duncan cursed silently. He should have known better. He should have realized the knight had been drawn by some romantic notion of riding griffins into battle, not by a true desire to sacrifice himself. There had been no choice but to kill him, and the man's death would weigh heavily upon his conscience.

His lips tight with apprehension, he handed the chalice to Megan. _Please, Maker, not her too!_ He wasn't a praying man, but as she drained the cup with a determined expression on her sweet young face, he found himself calling on every deity he'd ever heard of. She collapsed in his arms without a sound, her body going limp and her eyes rolling up in their sockets.

When she finally stirred, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He met Alistair's eyes, reading the shared relief in the young man's eyes. _At least she survived._ Carefully, he gathered her up and carried her into his tent, mumbling something about "giving her some privacy to recover". Alistair withdrew with an earnest nod, taking his word for it as usual. Duncan suppressed a sigh. He knew that in Alistair's eyes his motives were above suspicion. He himself was less sure about that.

For several hours he watched over her, washing the sweat off her forehead with a wet cloth, holding her hand when she tossed in the grip of the first nightmares. Once more he felt a flash of guilt at the thought of what he'd subjected her to. _It's done now. There's nothing anyone can do about it._ Maker knew, they needed more Wardens, now more than ever.

When she finally woke up, her eyes huge in her wan face, he acted purely on instinct. Without thinking, he pulled her into a close embrace and kissed her deeply, glad to feel some warmth returning to her cold limbs.

Megan pulled back, staring wildly at him. "Daveth... Oh Maker, he's really gone, isn't he?" She sobbed dryly once, and there was a frantic undertone in her voice that cut deep into his heart. "And Jory... I cannot believe what you did, Duncan." Her eyes searched his face, looking for reassurance. "What if it had been me? Would you have killed me too if I had refused?"

He couldn't lie to her, but neither could he make himself say the words. Yet his silence was answer enough. When she turned her face away from him, it was more painful than he could have imagined. "Megan, you need to understand."

She shook her head. "Don't talk. Just fuck me."

Duncan flinched at her choice of words, but he didn't argue the point. He knew well enough how she felt right now, how much she needed his touch. He had undressed her before putting her to bed, and he quickly slipped out of his own clothes. She moaned when he lowered himself onto the bed next to her, her body melting into his own.

They didn't talk as he caressed her, and she kept her eyes firmly closed when he spread her open and pushed inside her. But he could feel the spark along her skin at his touch, feel how she opened up to him, drawing him deep into her heat, moving eagerly with him until she finally relaxed with a violent shudder.

Duncan kept her with him, all through the night, their bodies quivering against each other over and over again, until she was worn out enough to fall asleep on his shoulder. Gently he stroked her tired brow. There would be no sleep for him. Not tonight.


	6. The Sacrifice

**Chapter 6 - The Sacrifice**

"But-" Alistair's expression vacillated between shock and anger. "Why can't we fight at your side? Do you doubt our abilities, your Majesty?"

King Cailan shook his head. "None of that. Making sure the beacon is lit at the right moment may well be what determines the outcome of this battle. I trust you with my life."

Megan didn't say a word, but Duncan had become quite adept at reading her reactions by now, and he could tell that she wasn't any happier than her fellow Warden. He didn't doubt she would let him know once they were alone. Yet she knew better than to question the king in his war council. For all her relaxed attitude, the girl was a Cousland.

Duncan suppressed a sigh. Cailan had insisted on assigning this task to the two of them, but had refused to give a reason. No matter. He could guess it easily enough. He was one of the very few people who knew the king wasn't quite as optimistic about the outcome of this battle as he made out to be.

Cailan wanted Alistair alive, needed him to be safe. His bastard brother would be next in line for the throne, if things should go horribly wrong. And it certainly wouldn't hurt Alistair's chances to have Megan at his side, the heiress to the Cousland name and titles, a suitable wife for a king if ever there had been one. It was a clever plan, even if it had a few flaws, but then there were a few things the king didn't know about.

Duncan shook himself out of his reverie. With any luck, none of this would be necessary. "Come on." He signalled for Alistair and Megan to follow him to his tent. "I have a few more things to tell you."

Step by step he took the two of them through their assignment. Megan listened attentively, throwing in a suggestion here and then, but he could tell Alistair wasn't really listening.

"Teyrn Loghain will be waiting for the signal. Everything depends on you being in place atop the Tower." Duncan pointed out the location of the beacon on his map.

"Any peasant could do this." Alistair's frown deepened. "Duncan, I want to fight! I'm a Warden, not a messenger boy."

"Oh, for Andraste's sake!" Megan sounded unusually impatient. "Stop your whining, Alistair. We have an important job."

Alistair's lips thinned and he opened his mouth to reply, but Duncan raised a hand to silence them both. It wouldn't do to have the two of them at odds with each other.

"Get some sleep." He put a calming hand on the young man's shoulder. "We need you well rested tomorrow, Alistair. I'm counting on you."

Alistair snorted contemptuously, but he nodded and left without a further word. When Duncan turned around, he found Megan leaning against the tent post, her face unreadable.

"Are you going to complain as well now?" His shoulders tensed in anticipation of another conflict. "I assure you I'm not trying to-"

"I know." Her voice was uncharacteristically soft. "Come on. Let's get you out of this armour."

* * *

Megan had watched Duncan all evening. He was tense, and there was an absent-minded weariness to his expression that contrasted sharply with his usual clear-cut focus. Was it only the impending battle? Or did he have something else on his mind?

As she helped him take off his chestplate, Megan felt him relax into her touch, sighing quietly when she ran her hands over his naked torso. It was obvious he craved the contact, obvious he needed someone to hold on to. Seeing this other, more human side to him, was oddly touching. At the same time, she hadn't forgotten his actions of the day before. No matter how much he might need her now, he was a ruthless man, cold and brutal if he considered it necessary. _Anything for the Wardens, anything to end the Blight._

Yet, she would have to learn to think like this as well now, wouldn't she? She, too, was a Warden now, no longer a naive recruit. There was no need to hide his concerns any more, no reason to keep secrets from her. When they were both down to their smalls, she pulled him down to the bedroll, covering them both with his blanket. For once, there was no urgency to get naked. She took her time, stroking his muscular back, trying to work out some of the tension.

"Megan." Duncan's eyes were half-closed with pleasure. "Oh yes. That feels good."

She ran a probing finger over the deep line crossing his forehead. "You're worried."

"I am." There was a dreamy lassitude to his voice, almost as if he was talking to himself. "Cailan's plan is not without risk. Maybe I should have insisted he stay back, behind the lines. Right next to us Wardens... That's the most dangerous place he could be in."

Megan shrugged. "It's where he wants to be. Not your fault if glory is more important to him than his personal safety."

Duncan shook his head, unwilling to accept her easy explanation. "I'm not sure he fully realizes-"

"Shhhh." She bent down and stopped him with a kiss. "Cailan is a grown man. He's not your responsibility."

Her hands wandered deeper, touching him with assurance, and he responded immediately, only too happy to let himself get distracted. Soon enough he slid between her legs, sinking into her warmth with a small sound of bliss. Megan moaned happily. No matter what else was or wasn't between them, they could always rely on this to connect. They were so _good_ together!

This was different from their usual passionate couplings, though, sweet and tender, no struggle for power this time. This time they made love to each other, letting their bodies find their own rhythm, without haste or urgency. Megan basked in the beauty of it, the feeling of rightness as he slid inside her, the slow steady build-up of pleasure until they both cried out in ecstasy, their hearts beating in perfect synchronicity.

There was no time to lose themselves in each other again, not tonight, with the battle looming ahead of them. They needed to get some sleep, to rest. _At least now we may both be able to sleep._ Quietly, she crept out of the tent, back to her own bedroll. Alistair was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

_Another wave of attacking genlocks burst from a doorway. Megan fought them off desperately, unable to spare more than the barest glance at Alistair who was swinging his sword with grim determination. They headed for the next level of the Tower, only to find more darkspawn, hurlocks this time. Another floor, this one populated by raging mabari. And another, and another. No matter how many they took down, there was always another floor, always another group of foes._

_The stone tiles were slippery with blood. There was blood everywhere, on the walls, on her armour, on her face, a thin red haze obstructing her sight. Over and over she wiped the dark, vile substance off her skin, but it wouldn't come off._

_Alistair's voice, edged with desperation. "We must reach the top! We will be too late!"_

_Too late, too late, too late... The words kept ringing in her ears. Yet another floor... "Maker, we'll never make it!" And she was tired, so tired, bone-deep exhausted. But they had to fight on, they had to light the beacon, or the battle would be lost. Cailan, Duncan, all their fellow Wardens, were counting on them._

_Genlocks were bursting from the walls now, screeching wildly, and in the distance she could hear heavy footsteps, too heavy to belong to a hurlock. Too late! She stifled a sob even as she raised her daggers one more time. Too late!_

With a strangled cry, Megan sat up, her eyes taking in her surroundings without comprehending them, even as she finally came to understand it had been a dream. _Another Warden nightmare._ But this one had been uncharacteristically vivid...

Trying to calm her racing heart, she looked around. A tidy little room in some sort of cottage, sunlight slanting through the window. There was a faint smell of herbs in the air, mingling with the more prevalent aroma of some sort of stew. _Why am I not in my tent? Where's Duncan?_ The realization hit her with such force that her stomach cramped violently, and the room around her spun for a brief, dizzying moment. _Maker! It wasn't a dream! It's all real!_

The memories came rushing back now. The pale, frightened face of the Tower Guard as he told them of the darkspawn attack. Their frantic race up the Tower of Ishal, trying to reach the beacon against all odds. The ogre up on top, its evil little eyes glinting as it crunched the bones of a guardsman between its teeth before it attacked them. And then the horrible insight that they had indeed been too late, that the battle was lost. As were they, facing overwhelming numbers of foes, without any hope of survival. Then everything had gone black.

Where was she? For the first time, Megan noticed she was all but naked. Her wounds had been taken care of, and there seemed to be no lasting damage. But-

Just then the door opened and a familiar silhouette appeared, only to be pushed aside by several pounds of enthusiastic mabari.

"Habren!" Megan was inordinately glad to see the dog, so much so that she was even ready to forgive the wet, slobbering kiss on her cheek.

"You're awake." Morrigan smiled at her without any sign of warmth. "Welcome to my mother's hut, Warden. 'Twas she who rescued you, and your templar friend."

Megan took a deep breath. "I have questions."

"Naturally." Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead."

Megan didn't need to be asked twice. The witch was forthcoming enough with information. But what she had to say...

"There's no one left but me and Alistair?" Megan stared at Morrigan incredulously, while Habren nudged her with her wet nose. "Not a single warden?"

The witch shook her head. "None. They are all gone. The darkspawn are feasting on the dead."

Megan swallowed. _Just Alistair._ Alistair, who was no leader at the best of times, and who would be seriously traumatized by the news of Duncan's death. She couldn't count on him to take the initiative. She couldn't even look to him to comfort her at night. With all the maturity he'd shown so far, Megan would have felt more comfortable seducing a thirteen-year old. If only Daveth were still alive!

Well, at least Alistair was an exceptional fighter and that would be a help in the struggles to come. Still, there would be no one to share the load with her, no one to take over if she ever allowed herself to break down and cry. Once more she would have to hold up, burying her own feelings under a layer of cheerful optimism.

Megan tried to force her lips into some semblance of a smile, but instead she choked on a sob as Morrigan's last words finally registered. _Feasting on the dead._ The thought of Duncan lying dead on the battlefield, or worse, being dragged down into the deep by the darkspawn for whatever horror they would inflict on him, was almost more than she could bear. Closing her eyes, she could still hear his voice, still feel the warmth of his hands on her skin, still taste him on her lips.

Had she loved him? Not really, the more rational part of her brain pointed out. He'd been there for her at a time when she needed him, a source of comfort and strength when all else had been taken from her. She was grateful, more than she could say, and she knew would miss him bitterly in the days to come. But he wouldn't want her to give up. He'd want her to be strong. And really, she didn't have a choice.

Opening her eyes, she grabbed her armour, reaching deep inside her heart for that core of strength that had kept her going so far. She would always remember Duncan and the time she had spent in his arms. A single, large tear rolled down her cheek as she whispered the words of the Joining ritual to herself. "And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."

****


End file.
